The Loneliest Brute
by Greenbean347
Summary: Terrible Title. Oh well. Response to Tuck's Challenge. Slightly dark and maybe a little weird. Read it if you hate cliches. Award winner!


Less than stunning title, don't you think? Ah, well. This is in response to the Challenge issued in To Tuckborough I Go's Forum. It's a one shot so I probably won't get many reviews, but you can drop me a line to wish me a happy 20th! January 10th is my birthday!

FYI Tuck, there are 1475 words minus my intro.

The Loneliest Brute.

At first it had been a pleasurable experience. What fun he'd had, scaring the life out of his companions! As long as he lived, he would chuckle every time he pictured the looks on their faces. Fear, pure fear, at him, Lord Octesian, arguably the most gentle Telmarine that ever lived! What fools they were! But soon, his enjoyment gave into fear. Whichever spell it was that made him a dragon had robbed him of speech and any other method with which he could have communicated with his companions. Whenever they saw him, they would look to their weapons, and nearly more than once he was nearly killed by his own friends. Couldn't they see he was not a evil dragon? Couldn't they see he was much more human than any dragon might have been?

Apparently, they could not. One horrid day, Octesian awoke later than usual, and, upon flying to the beach for another day of trying to communicate with his comrades, saw that their ship was gone. He flew out to sea, and could just see the ship on the horizon. He called and bellowed, but they could not hear, or else, all they heard were dragon noises.

At first, he was overtaken with panic. How could he survive on a forsaken island such as this? Fortunately for him, his dragon instincts took over, and he survived on mountain goats and pond water. But then, a new emotion settled on him: loneliness. He felt a twinge of it a week after the other lords had set sail; within a month, he was longing for company. He shed great dragon tears for many weeks, howling in the moonlight and cursing any and every higher power that put this curse on him.

In time, though, he came to realize it was no one's fault but his own. He still had dreams of his human self, venturing into the cave, being mystified by the treasure there. The other lords were calling out to him. He had turned to call back, then had realized that if they heard him, they too would discover the treasure, and they would insist that it be divided amongst themselves. No, he thought fiercely, the treasure is mine! Mine! No one else's!

He was so absorbed in counting coins and examining diamonds and trying on crowns that he did not notice how late it was getting, nor how tired he was. The latter, however, he realized soon, and he made himself a bed and fell asleep. When he awoke, he was a dragon.

Life became much more depressing once he realized his transformation was no one's fault but his own. It meant that now, he could only sit about and curse himself for his greediness, his stupidity. He longed for his friends, to walk and talk like a man, for a kind word and a hug from a good friend. He longed to be with his fellow man.

To occupy himself, he took to flying about the other islands, and that was how he discovered the natives on Paradise Island (renamed Burnt Island by King Caspian years later). They were funny, savage sort of people, or they were savage to a man like Lord Octesian, who'd had a rather noble upbringing. All of the adults wore loincloths, and most of the children wore nothing at all. They were rather a shock to Octesian at first, especially the women, who made no attempt to cover their chests. They were a very family oriented group, the entire tribe located in one cluster, about three miles from the sea in the jungle. Men and women alike hunted and gathered, and the children, or the ones who were old enough, were responsible for keeping the stone huts clean. They ate from the sea, although on very rare occasions they ate goats from the mountains. In the center of their village was a wooden carving, and at first Octesian was unaware of it purpose. Upon further observation, he saw that often men would approach the wooden carving and bow low to it, and raise bowls full of meat or vegetables or pearls gathered from the sea to a great open hole Octesian learned was meant to be a mouth. It was their god, he thought with surprise.

They were the strangest, most savage people he had ever seen. And yet, at once, he fell in love with them.

They ran from him when they saw him, so he took to spying on them. He witnessed their daily activities, their celebrations, their funerals, for several long years. He got to know them almost as well as they knew each other. He could identify them by name, or what he thought were their names, for the spoke in the strangest tongue. He laughed inwardly as he witnessed young lovers who would sneak out to be alone, or children as they played their war games, or at the elder's who admonished the lovers and the children for being disobedient. He celebrated the birth of their children, mourned the loss of their loved ones, and sat proudly in the shadows as young men were rewarded for passing all tests the elders administered them so they could call themselves men. Before he knew it, sixteen years had passed, each day more lovely than the first as he lived and grew with the native islanders he had come to regard as his own children.

Perhaps it would have been better for him to become more wary. One day, a ship appeared on the horizon. His thoughts went first to his companions. He had nearly forgotten them! Now they were back! He had one more chance to try and persuade them he was just a man, though he began to realize that if he were able to do so, he might never see his friends again. However, as they neared, it was obvious that these men were not Telmarines They flew no flag, so they were unidentifiable, and the only sort of ships that did not wished to be identified were pirate rigs. Octesian had heard many stories of pirates, and none of them ended very happily. They would more than likely kill his native friends. Early in the morning, on the day the pirates arrived, he tore through camp, roaring and shouting as loud as he could. As he expected, the men chased him all the way to the beach, and there, as he disappeared, they saw the approaching ship. But those poor, naive fools, they did not know what to make of the ship. They stood, staring and pointing in awe, and soon a whole crowd was gathered, staring and whispering and pointing. Octesian began flying about the beach, trying to scare them away, but the men only threw spears at them.

The ship had docked not far from the island, now they were sending out a little boat to shore, and in it were fifteen or so rough looking pirates. Octesian redoubled his efforts to scare away the natives. The pirates, upon seeing the dragon, shot at him, and though their arrows did no good against his tough hide, they did smart a bit, and Octesian was forced to retire to a hidden location. He watched as the natives praised the newcomers for ridding them of the dragon, and the escorted them into their camp and gave them food and drink and tended to their every need. But the captain of these pirates was not a peace loving man, but more a lover of violence, and on the third night since their arrival, he ordered his men to slaughter the natives in their sleep.

From where he watched, Octesian gave a great howl of anger and sadness. As night fell on the bloody camp, he swept down upon his enemies, lashing out with his tail and breathing fire, so that soon the entire camp was in flames. Most of the pirates were either beaten to death by the tail, or else burned alive. He moved next to their ship, and ignited the entire rig, and watched with loathing satisfaction as the ship burned and sank. Not one pirate survived.

He flew back to Dragon Island, as it was to be later named, and once more wallowed in self pity and devastation. He barely left the gold-ridden cave to eat, and soon was so ill he could barely make it to the pond outside his cave. This was how Eustace found him that day he ran away from Caspian's camp; a sad, lonely old dragon who had lost all he had ever loved. It was no wonder he cried such giant dragon tears as he did. It was no wonder he died soon afterwards, of a broken heart, among the jewels and riches that he had once desired and now despised.


End file.
